Listen to Jim: http://www.jimreedbooks.com/mp3/longtimegone.mp3 or read on…
Where have all the old men gone?
As Bo Diddley said, “We’re a short time here and a long time gone.”
My neighbor, Frank Selman, died last week, and he’s already too long gone.
Frank was everything a good neighbor should be—attentive, witty, energetic, respectful of privacy, and always willing to lend a hand or a tool (as long as you brought it back in a timely fashion, in pristine condition).
When Liz and I and the kids moved two houses down from Frank in 1977, he and wife Margaret were already considered to be elderly, though if my math is correct, they were actually younger then than we are today…guess who’re the old folks now?
Frank kept his 1906-built home immaculate, and we kept our 1906-built home fairly straight most of the time, so I always admired his industriousness, always felt a bit guilty at my inborn Ludditeness. I am not a handyman.
Frank was 91 years old when he left the ‘hood. Wife Margaret is 91 and eager to leave us—she’s not well. All those decades of living close to Frank, all those generations being with the man she adored, seem to be pullng her away, yearning to join Frank on his journey.
Margaret and Frank were truly Southside Birmingham’s honorary village elders, and we hung on to every word Frank said, every bit of juicy gossip Margaret shared. They knew this century-old neighborhood better than all of us, and they remembered the names and periods of each person who had lived here. They were walking encyclopedic troves of historical fact and lore.
Are Liz and I the next village elders? Hardly likely. We’ll never live up to the standard that Frank and Margaret set, and we’ll never be quite as lovable.
So long, Frank. I hope you and your long-ago pet dog, Duchess, get to take extended walks together, I hope you find your old fishing buddies and have many opportunities to get out there and catch some, get out there and escape the cares of running a household, if just for a few hours.
And I hope that, once Margaret joins you, she’ll make a batch of spicy cheese straws in memory of me, the Selmans’ biggest fan
(c) 2012 A.D. by Jim Reed